Accidentally on Purpose
by lunarshores
Summary: Sometimes sailing with an experienced crew in the New World is a little tame for Ace's liking. He manages to keep himself entertained, but at what cost to his crewmates sanity?


**For Day 1 of the MarcoAce week organized on Tumblr. **

"I'm so bored." Ace sighed, resting his head on the table in the commanders' common room. "This is the most boring day ever."

"Ace, you say that about everyday nothing disastrous happens. They can't all be the most boring day. Just relax and enjoy the peace," Fossa said from his seat on the couch, not even looking up from his book.

"Whichever boring day that I'm currently suffering through is obviously the most boring." Ace sniffed.

"Don't you have a hobby or something? Surely you had to fill empty hours before you set sail on the Grandline."

"Yeah, but we don't have any crocodiles. And no one would play with me anyway. You're all boring."

"I meant a quiet activity that you do by yourse- did you say crocodiles?"

"Yeah, it's really fun first you-" Ace cut himself off as Fossa held up a hand.

"Any activity where something tries to eat you doesn't count as a hobby. A hobby is a peaceful activity you do to relax. Like reading or gardening or playing chess. Surely even you did something like that." Ace thought about it for a second, while Fossa gladly returned to his book.

"Oh, I know," said Ace, lighting up. His outburst made Fossa jump and lose his place in the book.

Ace grimaced suddenly. "I forgot. I already napped today, so it doesn't help." Ace failed to notice Fossa gritting his teeth as he flipped through the pages trying to find his place.

"Napping doesn't count as a hobby." He managed to grind out the words in a reasonably polite tone of voice.

"Then eating?" Ace was confused. What other peaceful activity could you do by yourself?

Fossa just shook his head, realizing the futility of explaining relaxing activities to the younger man. "Why don't you do something useful? Plenty of the commanders are helping out with chores."

"I'm not allowed to help, after the whole mustache wax incident. And I'm banned from the kitchens for some stupid reason." Ace pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ah, right." Fossa subconsciously held his hand protectively up to his moustache. He might not use wax, but still. "Well, I can't help you then."

Ace sighed again and slumped back to the table, again failing to notice Fossa's irritated stare.

"Ace."

"Yeah?" Ace perked up, hoping his brother had an interesting idea in mind.

"Go be bored somewhere else."

oOo

Ace glared at the door he'd been summarily shoved out of. There wasn't anything to do out here either. No one would even spar with him. Everyone else was taking this quiet time to relax and get little chores done. Which he wasn't allowed to help with after the moustache wax incident. One tinsy, little, innocent mistake and suddenly you're not allowed to help with anything. Ungrateful wretches. Sure Visita was in the infirmary for a few days, but he wasn't hurt too badly.

Normally, Ace would go get Thatch to help him plan something fun to do, but he was busy in the kitchen that he'd expressly forbidden Ace from entering. So not only was he unavailable for pranking the other commanders, but Ace still needed to get revenge on him for banning him from the kitchen. It was completely unjustified, prohibiting him from the kitchen just because he'd eaten Thatch's precious ingredients that he'd found on the last island. It hadn't even tasted that good. Ace leaned on the deck railing, staring out to sea, and sighed. Pops wouldn't mind telling him stories, but he was napping on deck, and Ace didn't want to disturb him.

He adjusted his hat to block the sun from his eyes. It was still not long after lunch, and there were still several hours to fill before his crewmates would be up for anything fun. Wait. It was just after lunch on a calm day. Ace's eyes widened and he grinned, knowing exactly what to do now. Ace took off his hat and pulled out a very crumpled piece of paper from the inside brim. He nearly lost both the hat and the paper to the breeze, but his reflexes saved them at the last second.

Ace scanned his list for a way he hadn't tried yet. There were only one option he hadn't already used. It was harder than he'd originally thought to figure out how to start a fire big enough that it suited his purposes, but not so big as to seriously injure anyone or damage the ship. He'd definitely have to devote some time to planning later, but now Ace was left with a narrow window of time, so option one would have to do. Ace smirked. He was partial to explosions. They produced the best results, and in this case he'd still get his revenge on Thatch.

First, though, he had to check the timing was right. It wouldn't do to waste his last plan after all.

oOo

Ace skulked along the hallway. There was no actual reason for his approximation of stealth (it was after all daytime, and there were no places to hide in a hallway), but it was kind of fun. He was heading to the commanders' meeting room, where Marco normally would be working if not busy with something else. It helped set the mood for a secret operation, though, and it had been a really dull day. Plus, he had some time to kill.

The weird looks his brothers gave him as he crept from doorway to doorway was amusing in and of itself. Ace would definitely add this to the list of things to do when bored. The game only improved when he'd met some of his division, on his way to Marco's room earlier. They'd immediately asked if something was wrong, and when he'd silently shushed them for asking why he was acting crazy, they took that as a sign to follow suit for some reason. They must have come to the false conclusion that he had some sort of sane reason for him making a fool out of himself. Or maybe they just wanted in on the joke.

Ace really had just wanted them to leave him alone, but this outcome was far better. He'd waved them off in the direction of the kitchen, and they had left, crouching and ducking in every brightly light doorway along the way. They must have somehow convinced others to do the same, since as Ace approached the lower deck where the meeting room lied, everyone who passed him was pretending to be a ninja with a bizarre mix of focus and bafflement.

It was amazing he'd managed to keep from laughing so far, especially as they all wore a look of concentration like the ship depended on their daytime stealth abilities to stay afloat. Their seriousness at what was clearly a pointless endeavor, much less one he'd made up on a whim, was difficult to take. Not to mention, as soon as they saw him acting in the same ridiculous manner, they'd get this relieved look on their faces. Like everything was going to be okay now that at least one of the commanders was participating in their meaningless ritual. He wondered exactly what the guys were doing to get everyone to follow.

Ace took great delight in confounding his crewmates even more when their skulking patterns and his intersected at a doorway. He'd stifle his laughter, put on his most serious expression, and nod grimly. He'd then move on to the next spot of "cover" without any further gesture or instruction. They'd look confused for a second, then grin at the praise, reassured that there was indeed a deeper reason for this pointless exercise, and sidle along to the next bit of non-existent cover.

. It took longer this way, but now he had a built in alibi, provided he was quick enough to flee the scene of the crime. By the time he reached the commanders' meeting room, it was almost time to implement the plan, and he was lightheaded from holding his laughter in. The room was devoid of pineapple shaped objects, so he turned around immediately and went straight to the kitchen vent that opened out on deck.

Though lunch had not long passed, wonderful smells that boded well for dinner, poured from the vent. Ace crawled in, barely noticing the intense heat. Soon after the entrance, the duct dropped vertically two stories, but the climb was even less of a bother than the heat was. The wonderful smells floating up made him regret his future actions for a brief moment, but he brushed that off quickly enough. Some things are more important than food. Besides, nothing should go to waste unless the cooks let themselves get too distracted by a tiny little explosion.

All of the stoves and ovens in the kitchen vented up the main shaft that Ace currently descended. It was a good secret passage to the kitchen, since most people never considered it could be used as such. It was very rare that all of the ovens were off, and the average temperature would kill most men in seconds. Ace wasn't bothered by it for obvious reasons and used it routinely to get snacks when no one was looking. They still hadn't figured out how he was getting in.

At the bottom, there was a door that opened into the kitchen, so the chefs could clean out the vents every quarter, to reduce the risk of fire. Thatch had had the duty last week, but he had put it off (greasy air ducts were not kind on his beautiful hair or something), figuring he could do it in a few weeks the next time the ovens were all off.

Normally, he'd be fine, since not enough grime had yet built up on the vent for fire to be a real threat. Unfortunately for Thatch, he'd recently unjustifiably banned Ace from his favorite place on the ship. Well, favorite place when he was hungry. As Vista could (and probably would with great emotion) attest, any fire risk, even the most unlikely, increased exponentially when Ace was out for vengeance.

Ace got a teeny, tiny fire going near the bottom of the shaft and waited for it to grow big enough to serve it's purpose. The cooks were starting to notice the smoke, and he heard Thatch protesting loudly that it wasn't his fault, as they started turning off the stoves and closing the vents to halt the fire. Thatch was sent to close the one on deck, still loudly protesting his innocence. He snuck out the vent door while they were rushing around. The sudden burst of fresh oxygen caused a minor explosion as the pressure could build in the now closed vents. Ace ginned. The fire was enough of a distraction for him to run out of the kitchen before anyone noticed, but was perfectly contained by the vents. Neither the kitchen nor any of his crewmates would be harmed, but the explosion was just loud enough to hear throughout the ship, just like he'd planned. It also cleaned out the grease rather nicely. He was practically doing a public service.

Now all he had to do was get far enough away, so he could rush to the kitchen from the hallways that many could attest he'd been skulking around in for the last twenty minutes. He would be back in plenty of time for the main event. It was foolpr-

Ace's gloating thoughts were cut off suddenly, as he barreled headfirst into the first division commander. The mostly naked, still dripping wet first division commander. Marco had thrown a towel around his waist as a concession to modesty, but that was all he'd bothered with in his rush to reach the scene of the explosion. Ace was more than conscious of the older man's lack of clothing, given that he was pressed firmly up against Marco's bare chest, with his face buried in the crook of Marco's neck. He scrambled backwards, fighting to keep a blush from his face.

"Ace," Marco drawled, "would you like to explain why you're running away from where your crewmates potentially need your help?"

"Hmm...?" Ace's eyes followed a drop of water, as it slid down Marco's abs only to be caught by the towel. He scrambled for concentration. "Oh, yeah! We'd better go and see what that explosion was." He was inordinately proud of himself for getting a whole sentence out, much less one that made sense and didn't immediately make him out as the guilty party.

"I have the feeling you know exactly what it was, somehow, _and_ why you did it." Marco finally drew his hands from Ace's waist, allowing Ace to step back.

Ace blanched. "What? Listen Marco, it's not like that, it isn't-, well it kind of is, but-"

Marco held up a hand, a severe look upon his face. Ace opened his mouth again but found himself unable to speak. Or breathe. Though it might just be better if he fainted from lack of oxygen. Marco ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed. The gesture caused the towel to slide ever so slightly down Marco' hips. Ace fought to keep his eyes off the incremental motion.

"Ace, we've talked about this. It's not that I don't understand your feelings, yoi." Marco laughed at Ace's blank face. Fainting was definitely becoming an appealing option. "I'm pretty sure everyone on this ship shares your feelings, Ace."

Ace blinked. What? Marco couldn't possibly mean that he thought _everyone_-

"You!" Thatch skidded around the corner, panting from the sprint above deck and back. His sudden entrance made both Ace and Marco jump at the sudden outburst. Thatch came to a halt next to Ace and jabbed a finger at his chest.

"It must have been you! There's just no way it would catch fire just because I was three measly days late," Thatch said.

"Oh, so you were the cause of the explosion that made me get out of my bath?" Marco asked, his tone making it Thatch's turn to blach. He subtly winked at Ace, who was still stunned, mentally going over their conversation, wondering what the hell he'd missed. Damn water droplets sucking away his mental capacity.

"Of course not! Ace must have-" Thatch broke off as three men from his division darted into the nearest doorway for cover. They all nodded significantly to Ace then skulked away to the next doorway. Ace was impressed. They didn't even look confused anymore. He wondered what reason they'd come up with for the task.

"It would seem that Ace has been busy elsewhere," Marco said, his brows raised, as two more men passed by in the same fashion, "Besides I ran into him on his way to the kitchen, yoi."

Thatch still stared after his crewmates bewildered. He turned back to Ace, the cause of the explosion temporarily forgotten.

"What are they doing? Do they actually think they're hidden? What's the point? Why?"

Ace smiled mysteriously and didn't answer the barrage of question.

"Don't you have fire damage to deal with? What was that about being three days late?" Marco cut in, his eyes gleaming subtly with amusement.

"Never mind that! I said nothing of the sort." Thatch glowered at Ace. "This is all your fault, and I _will_ prove it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Ace nodded casually at the latest passerby, who was having a particularly difficult time at being stealthy in the open halls, due to his immense size. He was from Vista's division. Or maybe Kingdew's? The man blushed and bowed deeply, clearly honored by the implied praise, before darting along towards the next doorway. Thatch caught him before he could get there.

"What is this, a game? Some sort of training exercise? What?"

Their crewmate shot a glance at Ace, who subtly shook his head. The large man just grinned, wrenched his wrist from Thatch and continued to sidle down the hall, a look of intense concentration gracing his face. Ace laughed at Thatch's baffled expression, as he looked between the completely visible man in "hiding" and Ace repeatedly.

"Why did he get a nod? He was doing even worse than the others!"

"Just go back to the kitchen, Thatch," Marco said, grinning at the man's confounded expression.

"But- but-"

"Just go, yoi." Thatch looked back and forth between Marco and Ace.

"Don't think that I won't figure this out!" With his dramatic proclamation, he turned on his heel and marched back to the kitchen, still muttering to himself.

"Thanks, Marco." Ace couldn't believe the older man had covered for him, even with the excellently timed distraction of his fellow ninja.

"Don't get used to it, yoi. I only did it because like I said before, everyone wants to get back at Thatch sometimes, and hopefully, this will teach him not to shirk his duties. You did make sure nothing was harmed, right?"

Ace's eyes widened in comprehension. So Marco had meant that he understood wanting vengeance on Thatch. Stupid chicken, making him worry for no reason. He nodded in response to Marco's question.

"But Ace, you can't just go blowing up or burning parts of the ship just because someone made you mad." Marco smiled ruefully at Ace. "Even Thatch, tempting though it might be most of the time. You burn enough things on accident; don't make life even harder for the shipwrights, yoi."

"I understand." Ace smiled up at Marco. "Thanks anyway, though."

Marco laughed and ruffled Ace's hair. The dark-haired man ducked, trying to shake off the affectionate hand, and glowered up at Marco, who just laughed again.

"Brat. Go and do something useful in the kitchen to make up for whatever havoc you caused. Tell Thatch I said it was okay if he gives you any trouble, yoi," said Marco, "I'm going to get dressed." He looked down at himself and sighed. "Lately everything seems to go wrong when I'm taking a bath." Ace pulled his gaze away from the first division commander and cleared his throat nervously.

"Well, I'll just get to the kitchen then. See you later, Marco." With that, Ace turned and headed back to the kitchen.

"Wait, Ace! Why _is _everyone walking so strangely?"

Ace laughed and waved without answering as he turned the corner towards the kitchen. His mind was already filled with plans for the next lazy afternoon. He'd really have to be careful next time to make sure Marco remained oblivious. This time was too close a call. Ace couldn't bring himself to regret anything that lead to his headlong flight into a mostly naked Marco though. He grinned. Definitely these were the best results yet. It'd certainly be hard to top this plan next time. Ace thought back to his earlier conversation with Fossa, as he reached the door to the kitchen. Maybe setting fires counted as a hobby. It was pretty relaxing, and he did do it by himself. Ace grinned. He understood the appeal now.


End file.
